Gone
by littlebixuit
Summary: Shaggy's feelings when Scooby suddenly dies. Inspired from a nightmare I just had. R&R please.


_Oh God._

_I haven't dreamed for quite a while and now, I woke up, crying, my heart screaming inside of me._

_My best friend Stephanie just died in my dream. By a damned, silly accident!_

_And then, I wanted to write this story, about how much I need her. _

_This story is dedicated to her. To Stephanie. And our friendship. A thing, I need to live._

**I don't want to write this now. I'm not in the mood for writing this here, but Scooby's not mine. No jokes about that now. No joke time.**

* * *

"Scooby?"

Shaggy walked over to the stairs, he had just seen Scooby fell down. The dog had made a howl and now it was silent.

Depressing silent. That kind of silence, where you feel something's wrong. Something's bad. That kind of silence where you feel lonely. Feel like the air is getting out of the room, it's getting cold and colder and you freeze, you shiver, also if nothing happened to the room.

You know, that the air is there, that it's warm and that there are people just some meter away, you would just have to go out on the street and would see them, but you don't feel it.

Because you feel, that something just happened. Something, that was not supposed to happen like that. Not in this way, not now. You don't want it, you want everything like it is always.

But you feel it. It's there. It creeps around you. You can't see it, you just can feel it.

The video games in his arms fell to the floor. Something cracks inside one of the covers, but Shaggy didn't listen. He ran. To the stairs, ran them down, tripped and nearly fell like Scooby did before. Caught himself. Ran the last steps and kneed down beside the dogs body.

Scooby rested there, not moving.

"Scooby?" his voice is barely audible, a quiet whisper. He didn't even heard it, he didn't even noticed, that he had said it. He just looked to the not moving form of his best friend.

Slowly, his hand trembling like it never did, he felt for the dogs pulse.

He couldn't find it.

His hand twitched around, tasting every place he knew for a pulse.

He held a hand in front of Scooby's mouth.

No breathing.

He placed his hand on the dogs chest.

No heartbeat.

Tears began to fill his eyes.

"NO!" he screamed. "THAT CAN'T BE!" his fists hit the ground, again, again, while the tears ran down his cheeks.

Shaggy couldn't see his best friends limp body anymore.

His whole body trembling, he made his way stumbling to the back door.

Passing pictures with Scooby. From every place they went to, they had made photos. A whole wall was filled and sometimes, Shaggy just sat there and looked at all the pictures.

With Scooby, Velma, Daphne and Fred. And him, of course. As a happy group.

Everywhere. Europe, America, Australia, Africa, the North and South Pole. Through so much, they had went together. And now, it should end like this? End with a damned, fucking stair?!

Shaggy stumbled out of the back door, falling on his knees, his hands on the ground, his head hanging down.

Tears fell to the bright stone of the terrace, making every point they hit darker.

Shaggy felt nothing than a dark inside of him.

He was gone.

His best friend was gone.

When the full realization of that hit him, the pain came.

* * *

He didn't know how long he had been laying there, sobbing, just one thought in his head.

My best friend is dead.

It circled around, making everything grey, the terrace, the grass, the earth around him. The usually so colorful leaves, the trees, the sky, the whole nature around Shaggy was grey. The sounds of the wind, playing his endless game with the leaves, swishing through them, swirling them to the ground and up again, the sounds of distant cars, he heard nothing of it.

The only thing he heard was the howl, his best friend had given before. It was stuck in his head, was repeated over and over again.

He tried to cover his ears, but it didn't helped. The howl still was there. It wouldn't go away.

He couldn't tell, how long he had been lying there when they came. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours. Time had left him.

They had found Scooby and knew what had happened.

They tried to talk to him, tried to tell him, he should go inside, should sleep. Should at least stand up from the cold stone of the terrace.

"No." He didn't listened to them. He just repeated his word, not even minding if the answer fit to their questions. "No."

He shook his head.

His heart was ripped in hundred pieces. Thousand. Pieces, that were little enough to fit through an eye of a needle.

He wanted to lie there and never stand up again.

He didn't want to live anymore.

He wanted to die.

Ignoring his protest, they carried him inside of the house. Brought him to his bed, carefully that he wouldn't see Scooby, who still lied at the end of the stairs.

But Shaggy moved out of their arms. He fell on the floor and scramble his way to Scooby.

With a trembling hand, that was wet from his tears, he closed the dogs eyes.

They didn't said a word.

They watched, knowing that it wasn't nearly as hard for them to lose the dog as for him.

Because he had lost his best friend.

The one, that was with him since he had been five. When he hadn't known them and didn't had any friends, Scooby had been there.

Scooby always had been there.

"Shaggy..." He interrupted his friend by shaking his head.

"No."

They didn't knew how it was.

They hadn't known him like he did.

They hadn't needed him like he did.

They hadn't had this not-to-cut strap that had always bound him to Scooby.

Nobody had.

But now, it was cut.

Broken. Destroyed.

For Scooby, it had ended with a short moment, that wasn't longer than two seconds.

For Shaggy, it would be there for the rest of his life.

It hurt.

It had made a big hole through his heart, ripping the things he had always felt when Scooby was with him out of him.

Shaggy didn't knew how to go on.

How to go on without Scooby.

Without his best friend.

All he could feel was pain.

Pain and emptiness.

The emptiness, Scooby had filled before.

And that had been his whole heart.

But now it was gone.

He was gone.

And all he left, was pain.

Pain and emptiness.

* * *

_That was my dream._

_And for a little, just a little, little while, when i had waken up before, I had thought, that it was real, before realizing, that it had been a dream._

_I've felt this._

_And realized, how unbelievable important Stephanie for me is._

_That was it._

_No jokes this time. Even Apps has nothing to say to this._

_Review please. And sorry for using the F-word._

_littlebixuit_


End file.
